


Coda

by TheLittleRedWhoCouldWrite



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Feels, Frottage, M/M, Post-Episode: s11e17 Red Meat
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-12
Updated: 2017-02-12
Packaged: 2018-09-23 21:11:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 786
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9677591
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheLittleRedWhoCouldWrite/pseuds/TheLittleRedWhoCouldWrite
Summary: In the aftermath of “Red Meat,” Dean needs to reassure himself that Sam is okay.





	

They barely make it to Dean’s room, Dean’s hip catching on the doorframe, but he doesn’t stop in his desperation. Dean pushes Sam down onto the bed. He knows the doctor that stitched Sammy up is a professional, but he needs to see for himself. Sam lets his brother manhandle him out of his jacket and shirt- he has some idea of what Dean must be feeling right now.

The wound is clean, the stitches neat. If they take care of it and Sam takes his antibiotics, it should heal with minimal scarring. Dean carefully covers the wound with clean bandages. He looks up to find Sam watching him with a fond smile.

“You’re gonna live,” Dean says, trying to sound tough even as he looks away from his brother’s gaze.

“Dean,” Sam sighs softly, one hand curling around the back of his brother’s head. He pulls Dean up into a soft kiss. The older man melts into Sam’s arms, letting himself be pulled up onto the bed. “I’m okay,” Sam whispers, holding Dean close. “I’m alive.”

Dean nods, forehead pressed against Sam’s as he straddles the tall man’s thighs. Sam kisses him again, carefully moving them up higher on the bed. He pushes Dean’s red shirt and jacket off in one move, dropping them over the side of the bed before urging Dean to sit up so he can pull his t-shirt over his head.

“I need you,” Dean murmurs, ducking down again so his face is right next to Sam’s.

“You have me.”

Their boots prove to be a little more difficult than their shirts were, and Dean moves down to the end of the bed, meticulously unlacing and removing each of Sam’s boots. He pulls off Sam’s socks and tosses them aside before sitting on the bed to take off his own boots.

Sam reaches for his brother, encouraging him to rejoin him on the bed. They manage to get their pants undone and off. Sam can feel Dean’s hard-on through the thin fabric of their boxers, but he knows tonight is different. This isn’t the usual, frantic, adrenaline-filled post-hunt sex. There’s no battle for dominance to see who tops, no biting and scratching. It’s just Sam and Dean, bodies pressed tight together, sharing heat and air in their closeness.

It takes some maneuvering, but Sam manages to kick off his boxers, encouraging Dean to do the same. When his brother settles again, their cocks line up side-by-side between their stomachs. Sam spreads his thighs so Dean is between them, giving the older man the leverage he needs.

Dean rolls his hips, grinding their erections together. One hand is at Sam’s throat, fingers under his jaw to press against his pulse. His breath is hot on the other side of Sam’s neck, lips dragging softly over the skin with each murmur of “Sammy, Sammy, Sammy…”

Sam’s hand cradles Dean’s head while the other rubs soothingly down his brother’s spine. He can feel each shift in Dean’s muscles, each drag of heated, precome slicked skin. He turns his head to press his lips to his lover’s temple, voice low when he speaks.

“I’m here, I’m okay. Dean, I’m okay…”

When they finally climax, it’s almost simultaneous. Dean relaxes into Sam’s arms- finally- and Sam’s pretty sure his brother is crying, but he’s not going to say anything. He just holds on tighter, breathing in the familiar, musky scent of the most important man in his life.

“You should go get a towel,” Sam says after a few minutes. The come between their stomachs has started to feel a little uncomfortable.

“Don’t wanna move,” Dean whines.

“Don’t think I won’t use your shirt,” Sam threatens.

The older Winchester lifts up a little to glare at Sam. “You wouldn’t.”

“Try me.”

“Why can’t you go get the towel?”

“You’re not the one with a bullet wound. Speaking of, we’re probably going to have to change the bandages again. You better grab those, too.”

“I hate you,” Dean grumbles even as he rolls off of Sam and heads for the sink by the door.

“I know you do.”

Sam watches his brother go, smiling when Dean shoots a wink over his shoulder and wiggles his ass- it’s a very nice ass. He really want to get his hands on that ass. Not now, though. Now, he’s going to lay still while his brother cleans them both up, and then he’s going to crawl under the covers and listen to Dean grumble about how much space Sam takes up even as he pulls his little brother close, and they’re going to sleep.

Sam’s totally going to get his hands on that ass, but it can wait until tomorrow.


End file.
